


What Comes After

by Styx_in_the_mud



Series: On Gilded Wings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Mistaken Identity, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styx_in_the_mud/pseuds/Styx_in_the_mud
Summary: Six and a half months after the second Great Wizarding War, Draco Malfoy disappears from the wizarding world.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is where I start expanding my post-canon future fic after having thrown Cursed Child out the window and into a fire place. This is a prequel of sorts to Believe Me When I Say, and I'm hopefully going to be posting a bunch of stories in this verse which will tell you more about the characters lives after the war, and how they got to the point where they could calmly joke around on twitter. 
> 
> A huge thanks to R for betaing as usual!

There was a trial after the war. Not immediately of course, there had just been a war after all, and these things take time. Most of the surviving Death Eaters spent the interim in the crumbling cells of Azkaban, guarded by Aurors, not dementors. Draco was lucky, he supposed, to have been put under house arrest along with his parents. Avery had famously cursed til he was blue in the face when he heard that Lucious and family would escape the cells yet again. Avery had always been a bit dim. The Manor was nothing more than a gilded cage, where Lucius drank himself into a bitter stupor and Narcissa's muffled sobs echoed through the empty halls. Draco had never wanted to be anywhere less. It was almost a relief when it came time for his family to be tried for his crimes. Even Azkaban would be better than his home -- haunted by the crimes of the past year.

 

They tried each member of his family separately, and had saved him for last. Walking into the courtroom felt absurdly like a twisted version of his first day in Hogwarts. All eyes were on him, and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. He debated pasting on a smirk as he walked to the lone chair in the center of the room, but settled instead on a bland smile at Acting Minister Shacklebolt. He kept his answers short and terse, but he never broke eye contact. He may be going to prison for the rest of his life, but he was bloody well going to do it with dignity.

 

And then Harry Potter took the stand. And defended him. Draco wasn't sure what the other man was saying, he was too busy trying to keep his face blank, refusing to betray the utter shock and disbelief that was roiling through him at the moment. His parents got five years in Azkaban and 20 years of house arrest. He got six months.

 

Potter met him outside the courtroom, the shadows under his eyes deep and dark enough against his brown skin to rival Draco's own.

"Sorry." he said "It was the best I could do."

Draco knew he should thank him, but the voice in his head that sounded like a mix between his 11 year old self and his father at his worst protested loudly. He settled on a stiff nod and got a wry smile in return. He realized later, on his first day in his cell, that his heart felt just a little lighter.

 

Six months later he was allowed to see his parents before becoming a free man. His mother hugged him. His father ignored him.

"Do well for yourself" his mother whispered before he left, her voice shaking but her eyes clear.

He nodded. There was nothing else to do.

 

Six and a half months after the second Wizarding War Draco Malfoy disappeared from the wizarding world. And in a shabby studio apartment above an old bookstore on a London sidestreet, Daniel Matthews began unpacking his single suitcase.


	2. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has his first experience out in the world as Daniel Matthews. It doesn't entirely go according to plan. (In which Draco tries, really)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be following a pattern by gifting bits and peices of this verse to R days after her birthday has passed, but there we go. (IDK how much of a present this is bro since you beta'd it but Hap Birday I guess!)

 

Draco studied his reflection in the grimy mirror of his bathroom, idly turning his wand between his fingers. The pale skin, blonde hair, and pointed features suited Draco Malfoy, but not Daniel Matthews. He sighed, pointing his wand at his hair first and muttering under his breath until it reached a darker shade. It made his skin look paler than ever, but a quick glamour solved that problem, evening out his complexion. After a moment of hesitation, he threw in an extremely mild hair growing jinx. The man that stared back at him was somewhat disheveled in an old dress shirt. He had rich, reddish-brown hair and a rosy tint to his cheeks that Draco had never managed before. His was hair longer, but not long enough to remind him of his father, curling slightly around his ears in a careless, messy way. Draco quite liked the look. Only his eyes remained the same, a steely grey. Part of him knew that no amount of glamour could remove the darkness that haunted them.

 

"Hello. I'm Daniel Matthews, pleasure to meet you." he said to his reflection, and couldn't help but let out a small laugh. This tiny bathroom, with it's cracked window and leaky faucet was far removed from the splendor he'd grown up with. As was the single room outside consisting of a cot, a strange-looking box, a few shelves, and a stove top. Somehow, this felt more like home.

 

He walked over to the cot and, after a little deliberation, put his wand in the drawer of his tiny bedside table. It felt strange to not have it on his person, but he had made up his mind to do things the muggle way, and he wasn't one to back out of challenges so easily. "Daniel Matthews" he muttered to himself, letting the name roll around his tongue. His father would have been disgusted by the choice, it was far too common a name for a Malfoy. But Draco wasn't a Malfoy anymore, at least not for while.

 

Daniel Matthews was a good, solid name. And he wouldn't have to change the initials stitched into most of his clothing, which was always a plus.

 

Draco's attention turned to the bundle of muggle money in the drawer next to the wand. He had exchanged a small chunk of his funds into muggle currency before freezing the account. Never had he been more grateful that Goblins didn't ask questions. He had spent the previous night familiarizing himself with the strange notes until he was fairly confident that he understood this currency system. He would need a way to carry it around, though. The notes were a poor fit for his coin purse.  Surely muggles had a more convenient way to carry their money around.

 

He leaned back against his headboard and looked around the bare room. He would need to buy a lot of things — starting with a padlock. His acquisition of this apartment didn't give him the highest hopes for proper building security. He'd seen the advertisement in a muggle newspaper he had snuck into his hotel room the day after he'd been granted his freedom, and had responded on a whim. Three days later a key arrived for him by post with instructions to send the deposit immediately and pay rent by the 5th of every month. It had put a sizable dent in his  funds. He had yet to meet his landlord, and honestly, he was willing to believe they didn't exist.

 

He dug through his suitcase for a sweater, coming up with the salmon one that his mother used to love to see him wear. He pulled it on, grabbed his keys and all his cash, and tried not to panic at the idea of leaving his wand behind. Taking a deep breath, he strode out of the door. Letting it click shut behind him. It was time to brave the muggle world.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco had thought he could handle shopping. How hard could it be? You just go, get the things you need, pay, and leave. Haggling might be a bit tough with his rudimentary knowledge of the muggle currency system, but he was confident he could manage it — he had even made a list.

 

He was not prepared for Tesco's. First of all, it was the furthest thing from the markets and tiny greengrocers that dotted Diagon Alley. Here produce and plastics alike stretched far beyond his line of sight, all under one roof, gleaming strangely under harsh white light. For another, the salespeople seemed to be eyeing him with a kind of distrust. He nervously adjusted the pastel patterned shirt that peeked out from under his salmon sweater and dusted down his khaki pants. He was fairly sure they were passable as everyday muggle wear. He was probably just imagining it.

 

The list in his hand had crumpled on his walk down to the shop, and he carefully smoothed it out, checking the first item on his list. Something to carry his money. He approached the nearest worker, who, to his puzzlement, gave a resigned sigh before he even opened his mouth.

 

"Excuse me." He said, trying for polite, which was a bit dicey through gritted teeth. "I need something to keep my money in." There, that seemed like a reasonable enough request.

 

The girl, however, looked at him strangely. "You mean a wallet?"

"Yes. Please direct me to the wall-its"

The girl's frown deepened and Draco resisted the urge to wipe his brow.

"I'm sorry, we don't sell those here."

 

Draco stared. He had prepared a script. This was not part of the script. The girl sighed. "Look, you can get one in the tourist's shop next door. For pretty cheap too, okay?"

 

"I- yes. Thank you." He stuttered, hurrying away before the conversation could spiral further out of his contrl. He checked the next item on his list and resolved not to speak to anyone for the rest of this excursion.

 

"Excuse me sir." Draco jumped at the quiet voice behind him, nearly dropping the milk, cheese, butter, and eggs he carried precariously in his arms. The older gentleman was wearing a sales uniform and pushed a metal cart towards him. "Please use this."

 

"Thank you" he said sheepishly. The man smiled and returned to the line of carts he was returning to the front of the shop, and Draco busied himself arranging his goods in the cart to hide his flush. Forget speaking to people, he wasn’t even going to make eye contact with them!

 

He was staring intently at the produce aisle when a friendly voice interrupted his musing. "First time living alone mate?" Asked a man not much older than himself, eying the three potatoes, six onions, and solitary apple that took up one corner of his cart.

"Yes." He replied tersely, hoping to cut the conversation short.

"Ah, then you better take this. You need it more than I do." He said, taking several plastic packets out of his basket and placing it in Draco's basket. He gave him a jaunty salute and left, leaving him staring at the Top Ramen noodles that we're his now, apparently.

 

The final straw was when three middle aged women elbowed him out of the way to join the enormous queue for checkout. Draco gave a disgusted grunt and stormed out of the shop, leaving his cart where it was. Three hours and 4 stores later he arrived back home, collapsing on his bed with a solitary plastic bag containing 4 packets of ramen, three apples, and a plastic wallet stamped with a picture of the Big Ben.

 


	3. Happy Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco might be the first Malfoy in several generations to go job hunting... and he's not very good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to R again for the beta read!

Money was nothing new to Draco, he'd grown up surrounded by wealth — it was part and parcel of the Malfoy name. Not having money, now that was a new experience. After his first disastrous shopping experience he had come to two important conclusions: 1) muggle shops were a twisted labyrinth of trials and tribulations, and 2) he had no idea how to cook. The latter discovery led to him buying double the amount of surprisingly expensive vegetables. Then there was the dish soap incident, and the thing with the shoe polish, and a minor house fire — well long story short Draco was running low on funds — and clothes. Theoretically he could conjure most of the things he really needed, but he hesitated to pick up his wand. He told himself it was because he was determined to make it in the muggle world without magic. He liked to ignore the rolling wave of nausea when he thought of all he'd done with his wand in the past few years. Instead he resigned himself to doing it the muggle way. It was time to get a job.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco was sure that he was the first Malfoy in centuries to look at job listings. He wasn't entirely sure how his family had made their fortune, but he was positive it wasn't as a greeter in Safeway. He sat cross-legged on his bed in his worn pajamas (another thing to add to his growing list of expenses) sucking on the end of a quill as he crossed out that particular option in the classified section of the paper. He didn't know what a 'Safe Way' was but with a name like that, it was probably dangerous.

 

The paper in front of him was mostly scratched out, with only a few select postings circled — and then crossed out again. Apparently most places didn't hire without experience, especially if you couldn't tell them where you'd gone to school. Or paused before telling them you absolutely did not have a criminal record. He threw down his quill in disgust, before unfolding himself from his position and shrugging on a jacket. Maybe a walk would help clear his head.

 

* * *

 

 

One thing Draco had come to love about muggle London was how incredibly vast it was. The wizarding world spanned the globe but it existed in pockets within this larger expanse that he had always been warned away from. When he had first stepped out of Diagon Alley, the bricks grinding back into their usual positions with a sense of finality, and slunk through the Leaky Cauldron and out into the bustling city he had been completely overwhelmed. Mostly by how normal everything seemed. No one wore robes or carried owls and the children were playing with balls that fell back to the earth when thrown, but there was still a sense of familiarity to it all. Part of him still believed in the childhood ghost stories of dirty, greedy muggles, and he had desperately wanted to turn back to the world he knew. But no one here looked at him with exhausted, hateful eyes, and that thought alone had spurred him forward.

 

Over the months the city had grown on him, especially when he stirred himself into actually exploring the place. It made him feel as though he'd wandered into the forbidden forest. Not like in his first year — he was 11, in detention, and frankly terrified — but more like in fourth or fifth when he'd grown braver and smarter and learned that if he kept his wits about him he could go quite far in with no danger.

 

He walked the streets of London with this same confidence, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat to protect them from the biting wind. He'd lost his gloves at some point over the months. There was no end destination in mind, he just let his feet guide him as he wandered aimlessly, through the cloud, reveling in the sounds of people just living their lives. It was a welcome change from stifling silence or screams of fear and pain. If he closed his eyes he could imagine he was 11 again, in Diagon Alley shopping for school supplies for the first time. Like the last six years had never happened. .

 

He shook himself from his revere, blinking away the sudden pin prick of tears, and found himself in an unfamiliar part of town, staring at the weathered doors of a small pub. Suddenly, he was starving. He reached out to push the door open, but hesitated. Could he afford the meal? His stomach growled at that moment and Draco made up his mind. One bowl of soup couldn't hurt.

 

* * *

 

 

The pub was warm, and smelled of beer and bread — a vast difference from the biting chill of the outside. It wasn't empty, but it wasn't quite packed either. If Draco was to describe it one word, it would be 'cozy'. A bit like The Three Broomsticks, just familiar enough to make his heart ache. A young woman with red hair, just a shade darker than a Weasley's was behind the bar, chatting amicably with a couple of older gentlemen. A man a few years older than himself was wiping down a table in the back, and Draco could just make out some raised voices from the kitchen. Another girl burst from the kitchen door, broom in hand, and caught him staring. She beamed at him.

 

"Oh, are you here about the posting?"

"Uh—"

"Stay right there, I'll get Cor."

 

And she was gone before he could correct her. He could feel eyes on him and wanted to sink through the floor. The bartender caught his eye and smiled, gesturing to an empty barstool. He walked over in a daze, taking the seat. It seemed like hours before the other girl returned, followed by an older man whose salt and pepper beard stood out starkly against his dark skin.

 

"Name?" He growled.

"Dra — erm — Daniel" Draco stumbled, caught by surprise.

"Got your CV?"

"N-no?

 

The man gave an exasperated sigh.

"What are you doing applying for a job without a CV? I swear, young folks these days!"

Draco scowled "I never said anything about a job! I just wanted some stew! You people decided to interrogate me!" He burst out. He could feel a flush rising, and silence reigned in the bar once again.

 

"Oh no" moaned the girl, and the old man let out a guffaw.

"Well Amy, it looks like you've done it again!"

"I'm sorry! He just looked so lost I thought he was looking for one of us to ask about the job!"

"Typical Aimes, shoot first and ask questions later." chuckled one of the servers, who'd stopped wiping down tables to watch the interaction.

"Shut up K" Amy groaned, face buried in her hands "Get the guy a soup or something."

 

‘K’ gave her a mock salute before slipping through the kitchen doors. Draco found himself laughing at the exchange, drawing eyes back to him. The old man cleared his throat.

"Daniel, isn't it?"

Draco nodded.

"I'm Corbin, Cor to most. I apologise for Amy's over enthusiasm."

"Ah, it's — I mean I shouldn't have yelled."

"Well, no, but we did catch you off guard, so I'll give you a pass." Cor grinned at him, and Draco found himself smiling back. Struck by a sudden impulse, he cleared his throat.

"I — er — I've actually been looking for job." He looked away sharply, flush creeping up the back of his neck. Who was he to ask for a job after blowing up like that. He could feel Cor looking at him.

 

"Got any serving experience?" He asked suddenly, making Draco jump.

"No."

"Schooling?"

"Yes?"

Cor chuckled, not pressing him any further, to his surprise and relief.

"Are you the trouble making sort?"

19 years of tantrums, bullying, and stupid choices flashed through Draco's mind. "Ummmmm"

 

Cor looked him up and down with thoughtful grey eyes while Draco tried not to look too nervous. Then he smiled, open and honest.

 

"Okay kid, you've got the job"

 

Draco let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as Amy cheered and the bartender gave him a thumbs up and grin. He felt a clap on his shoulder as K reappeared from the kitchen.

 

"Welcome aboard." He said, placing a bowl of piping hot stew in front of him.

 

"Eat up Danny, I'll see you tomorrow evening at four."

 

Draco nodded, feeling some squirming part of him settle at the words. He took a bite of the stew. It was delicious.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, that's the prologue! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
